The Bearers of Hell
by MalfoyMaladyoftheDark
Summary: When Dean returns from Hell, something is different. He heals faster, fights better and seems to be more reserved than ever when it comes to his emotions. Dean is more powerful and Sam is in for a surprise. Demon!Dean/Demon!Sam, Slash and Gore
1. Chapter 1

**So this is the start of a very long fic. I have already planned out about 10,000 words, but I have to piece all the parts together and add some more to the beginning. I would very much appreciate it if I could get some feedback, but my updates will not be dependent on them. I would just like to point out that I am planning on making my chapters much longer than this, but at the moment I am still writing the next part, so I only have this much. Think of this as a teaser, if you will. **

**N.B. I own nothing but my own twisted mind. (And sometimes I doubt that as well...).**

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><p>The last thing he could remember was the pain. The most intense pain he had ever felt, it was worse than anything he had felt when alive.<p>

But that made sense. Hell was all about pain, that was the point. But he knew that, had known that when he made the deal to save Sam.

The problem was, he hadn't _really_ known what he was in for. He could still feel Alistair's blades. At the moment, that was a non-issue. He had fought out of his grave, but that wasn't the last of it. He now had to convince Sam and Bobby that he was the same man that had left. That was going to be hard with everything he had been through.

A ruling-level demon couldn't just flip a switch and turn human again, especially one with basically no control over his new powers. He could, at best, control the emotions that controlled his powers, not the powers themselves. He could handle the physical changing part of his new self, but that didn't count. If he couldn't control the emerald flames and a whole slew of other powers, the physical stuff would be a non-issue anyways.

_I have to get through this_, Dean thought as he travelled toward the abandoned looking gas station, _if only for Sammy's sake_. _If only for Sam. _


	2. Chapter 2

As Dean collects various supplies from the abandoned gas station, the radio and television turn on. _Oh shit, angels_, he thinks. He knows is he doesn't act like the oblivious human he is supposed to be, they will be suspicious.

He reaches for the salt, hoping it doesn't harm him. Dean was super-powerful now, but he didn't know yet whether or not being a high-ranking demon got him off the hook when it came to the traditional demonbanes.

A high-pitched shrieking filled the interior of the old station, and Dean's ears start bleeding as he futilely covers them with his hands. An angels true voice can be deadly to the lesser denizens, thank goodness he wasn't a weakling from one of the lower levels.

As suddenly as the noise started, it disappeared, leaving Dean crouched on the floor. Grabbing his bag of pilfered goods, he heads out, hoping to find a car to steal.

Seeing a pay phone, he decides to try Bobby, hoping that he won't think he is some crazy.

After calling Bobby and getting the expected reaction and death-threat, Dean hotwires a car and heads for the junkyard, praying he wouldn't get shot on arrival. Surviving a fatal point-blank is not a convincing argument for his humanity.

Dean had known Bobby was going to test him as soon as he walked into the house. During the drive, he had mentally prepared himself, because he knew that getting angry was just going to get someone killed; and the someone would most likely not be him, if his new powers had any say in the matter.

"It's good to see you boy." Bobby says, after a heartfelt hug.

"Yeah, you too."

"But how do you bust out?"

"I don't know, I just uh-" Dean trails off as he leans over to put down the silver knife Bobby had tried to stab him with to test his humanity.

As he turns back, Bobby splashes his face with holy water. Thankfully, Dean finds out that holy water doesn't effect him.

For affect, Dean quips, "I'm not a demon either, you know."

"Sorry, can't be too careful." Bobby shrugs, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

They move into the living room, Dean trying to wipe the water from his face with a hand towel.

"That don't make a lick of sense."

"You're preaching to the choir."

"Dean, your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, and you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of Hell and back into your meat suit…" Bobby trailed off, imagining what Dean should look like in his head.

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject." Dean was very thankful for his new regenerative powers, without those, he wouldn't have been moving a whole lot.

"What do you remember?" Dean couldn't answer this question without having more questions follow, so he decided to not decide and just give a non-answer. "Not much, I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then lights out, then I come to six feet under, that was it."

Bobby looks confused, but drops the conversation, sitting at his desk to ponder things. Dean is relieved and releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Of course, Bobby won't be satisfied unless there is someone to blame for Dean coming back from Hell, so Dean has to blame it on Sammy. He knows full well that Sam didn't do anything to bring him back, but it will appease Bobby for the time being, until he can figure out something else.

Apparently, Bobby hadn't spoken to Sam in months, and so Dean had to track down his brother. He lied to the phone companies and found him using the GPS on his cell under the name Wedge Antilles. Of course his brother is staying in the town he was previously interred in.

Sam was staying in another seedy hotel, the Astoria hotel. Bobby and Dean go to room 207. A brunette answers the door, expecting a pizza delivery guy.

Sam walks into the room from the bathroom, towel around his waist. At the sight, Dean's demon purrs in appreciation. _Down boy_, he thinks, _there is going to be issues if you don't control yourself until he is ready_.

When Sam catches a glimpse of Dean, several emotions flit over his features. Surprise, confusion, anger, determination. "Hey ya, Sammy." Dean says, none to wisely.

Sam lunges for Dean, not believing it was him. "Who are you?" he yells, trying to pin Dean before Bobby splits them up, holding Sam back.

"Like you didn't do this!" Dean yells back, keeping up the charade in order to stall for time with Bobby.

"Do what?" Sam asks, not understanding where Dean was going with this.

"It's him, it's him Sam, I've been through this already, it's really him." Bobby added, not loosening up on Sam's arms until he felt him relax, stopping his struggling but still breathing hard.

"But…" Sam starts, still trying to piece together how his damned-to-hell brother could be standing in front of him, not a demon but a human. He couldn't be anything else, with the tests that Bobby must have done on Dean before finding Sam.

"I know," Dean quips, "I look fantastic, huh?" trademark smirk gracing his features.

Sam grabs Dean into a hug, desperate for contact with Dean after not being around him for four months and resigning himself to never see him again. Bleary eyed, the three hunters look at each other, forgetting the girl who answered the door.

Dean's demon half was purring in contentment from the close proximity to Sam, his mate. _Down boy, _ he told himself, _now is not the time for that nonsense._

"So are you two, like... together?" The random girl of Sam's asked from her spot by the wall.

"What? No, no, he's my brother." Sam responded, Dean chuckling internally at his lack of tact. Dean looked over Sam's shoulder, giving the girl a leering gaze and fluttering his eyebrows, trying to get rid of her quickly.

"O-oh, got it… I-I guess. Look, I should probably go…" she trailed off, looking more than a little freaked out at the pair in front of her.

She scooted from the room, grabbing her errant clothes on the way out, trying to get away from the odd brothers as quickly as possible. Dean quietly applauded himself on a job well done. _Like that bitch could ever satisfy my mate_, he thought triumphantly.

The following argument about whether Sam had made a deal for Dean and the questions brought up, left Dean more than exhausted than he had ever been after a day in the torture rooms.

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><p><strong>N.B. So this is the second chapter. I would just like to thank my few reviewers and all the people who are already following and favoriting my story. I am working on more, however, this next chapter is going to jump quite a while into the future. I just don't really want to keep using a transcript. As my muse has instructed, we are just going to assume that everything that takes place is in between the hunts that take place during the show. I want to follow canon, but I don't want to be completely married to the transcripts from the season. So enjoy!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**SO. This is my new chapter. At this point, I am going to steer clear of the canon and transcripts (hopefully for a few chapters at least). I do want to remind people that Ruby technically doesn't appear yet in Season 3 SPN. The text from the first two chapters comes from episode 1, "Lazarus Rising," and Ruby doesn't have the blood donor relationship with Sam for a little while yet. I have explained this. This also answers the questions from those reviewers who asked why Dean was okay with Ruby being in room 207 last chapter. It wasn't her, it was a random girl named Kristy (I didn't deem this important). If this is too confusing, I will change it if you guys could let me know with a review please? Thanks! **

**Also, I would like to remind my readers that his is a MALE/MALE SLASH! This chapter also contains slight bloodplay, and a graphic scene. I really don't like to leave anything up to imagination so enjoy! This chapter does include LEMONS so be forewarned.**

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><p>"But what are we going to do about the little girl, Dean?" Sam yelled as they entered their hotel room. The shifter had stolen a little girl from a McDonald's, and they had lost its trail at the entrance to the sewers. The last thing they saw was the glowing yellow eyes of the shifter as it dragged the screaming girl into the sewer pipe.<p>

Sam had gotten angry when Dean had said they should give up. Dean had a really bad feeling about what might happen if they followed the shifter into its lair. Apparently, Sam's hero-complex was making him argue with Dean over this.

"No, Sam, it would have been suicide for us to go after the shifter without knowing the layout or the traps. We wouldn't have been able to save ourselves let alone the child." Dean's anger was getting the better of him for the first time in weeks. His shoulder blades were starting to itch and he knew his eyes were beginning to glow.

He turned away, trying to prevent spooking Sam with his eyes.

"We still could have done something…" Sam started to rant again, his words blurring together as Dean felt the power and anger build behind his eyes.

Dean managed to growl a quick "I'm taking a shower," before locking himself in the small, dingy bathroom. He leaned against the sink and turned on the water to mask his heavy breathing. The effort he had expended to control his powers this time was much greater. Something about it being caused by a fight with his mate made it worse than usual.

His wings itched to be released, and now that he was in private he allowed them free. They exploded from his back, a small hiss escaping him as the ripped skin stung slightly before re-healing. He wasn't used to the pain of his wings moving between hidden and seen because in Hell, he had always just had them out, and once out of the pit, they hadn't been out at all because it was too risky. _I guess I have to start letting them out more often because otherwise I might not be able to stop it next time I get in a fight with Sam… Not that I _ever_ want to get in a fight with him to begin with…_ His thoughts trailed off as he caught a glimpse of his wings in the mirror.

They were magnificent, spanning almost 24 feet when fully extended, though in the cramped bathroom they just laid flat against Dean's back. He turned to more fully look at the anatomy and color of the hide. The wings were fledged with crisp, black feathers. The bones of the wings, sprouting from his back and trailing down to a point at the tips, were protected with a layer of thicker, hardier feather. They were almost scales in their toughness, yet still pliable and aerodynamic like the other ebony feathers.

As he gazed into the mirror, he noticed his eyes, burning with the intense emerald fire of his demon magic. Without proper control, this aspect of his true nature would be the first to emerge, signaling to every hunter worth his salt just how dangerous he was. There was no other creature that had such green orbs; the shifters had their yellow reflective lens', the demons their onyx depths of pure sin, the crossroads demons their red eyes of mischief and bloodshed. His green eyes marked him as a high-ranking demon. Azreal had his yellow eyes and Alistair had his white. This marked them according to their purpose in the Underworld. Dean's eyes, with their jewel-hued fires, ranked him much higher up on the totem pole than those two clowns.

Dean now realized that they didn't even understand what the true power of Hell was. Those other two, that he had previously feared; he was now so far above them, that they would grovel at his feet if they met again.

He tried to regulate his breaths, settling on the closed toilet seat in order to better concentrate. He focused inward, using the techniques he had started learning these past few weeks in order to rein in his powers and hide his true form. It took him much longer than normal to gain full control over himself. _I have to get out more often, if I am to control my emotions and keep this secret until the time was right._

It had been several weeks since Dean had returned from his stint in Hell and he was getting better at keeping his powers in check. Nightly meditation was of great help, he was having a better time keeping everything a secret from Sam.

For all his obvious flaws, Sam was still as observant of his brother as ever and because of this, Dean had to be very careful to hide his thoughts and newfound abilities from him. For now, Sam wasn't ready to know everything that had happened to Dean in the pit and about what was to come for the both of them.

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><p>Dean was currently in the middle of a cornfield, sitting in the moonlight. He was going to try and release his wings for the first time. He had, of course, worn them out in Hell, but since his return topside, he had only had the opportunity to release them that one time in the bathroom.<p>

Sam and he were still working that 'shifter case. They couldn't save the little girl, but maybe if they annihilated this fucker, no other children would be taken.

They had been casing the 'shifter's lair and had broken into the public works office earlier that week and gotten sewer layouts. They were working on a plan to ambush the 'shifter as it came back from the supply run it made once a week into town as an old lady it had killed months before Sam and Dean arrived.

Speaking of Sam, things had become more heated until Sam had finally stopped talking to Dean altogether. Unless they were drawing up a plan of attack of strategy, they were silent at tombs.

With the way things were going, Dean was going to need to find a way to draw out Sam's demon. His hot-headedness was going to get him killed. His demon needed to be drawn out if only for his own self-preservation. But there was no way to easily do that….Or was there?

Dean already knew that Sam had a weakness for demon blood. He had seen him looking longingly at it the last couple times he had killed a demon or seen Ruby slice-and-dice with the demon knife. He has had enough visions of their future to see how Sam was going to be turned by Ruby.

Even now, Sam was slightly addicted to demon blood. Before he had died, he had seen Ruby and Sam doing it like rabbits, Sam licking blood from a cut on the bitch's neck while he pounded into her. Oh how Dean had been disgusted. But now, looking back on it, he could only be jealous that Ruby got to have that part of his mate first. Sam didn't remember because Ruby had cast some witch mojo on him after, but

Dean knew that Ruby was trying to use her blood to influence Sam into agreeing to start training to save Dean from Hell and defeat Lilith. But Sam was too strong for her. _Of course he is, _Dean commented silently, _he is one of the most powerful demons in existence, even if he doesn't know it yet. Her blood was like a salad, whereas my blood would be like a juicy, rare steak and beer. There is nothing better_. _Ruby isn't powerful enough for _MY _mate._

His demon growled at that. That bitch wasn't worthy of his Sam. If anyone was going to turn Sam with their blood, it was going to be Dean. Ruby wass only from the level of Hell below the torture rooms. Dean was much higher on the food chain and his blood would turn Sam quicker and give him a bigger power boost.

Maybe the shifter would be a good scapegoat for starting Sam's transition. The ambush would be a perfect time for Dean to make his blood readily available to Sam's demon. Being his mate, it would be near irresistible.

_But I'm going to have to control my reactions when the shifter 'attacks' me,_ Dean thought and turned back to his reason for sitting in a cornfield in the middle of the night, instead of silently watching over Sam.

Dean sat cross-legged, focusing inward on drawing out only a portion of his true form. It would do him no good to only be able to call the flames, eyes and wings all at once. He needed to be able to control each gift separately and affectively, just like his father had taught him when it came to weapons.

He focused, allowing his wings to spring from his back and calling his excellent night-vision. He opened his eyes and viewed the world with his powerful vision. His surroundings were just as vivid and detailed as they were during the day, or even more so.

Dean spread his wings to their full breadth for the first time topside. The cool night air caressed them as he stood surveying the darkness. Once he was ready, Dean leapt into the air, beating his wings in order to gain altitude.

Catching some thermals, he rose higher into the clear, night sky. The humans below oblivious to him, he enjoyed the crisp wind ruffling through his feathers and brushing against his face.

After several hours, he descended back to the corn field and revved the Impala. He had one more place to go before dawn. Dean had a 'shifter to intimidate.

Once ensuring the shape-shifter was going to obey his wishes, he returned the hotel where the brothers were staying. Dean sat in the car for a few minutes, carefully reining in his powers until they were tightly under lock and key once more. This upcoming ambush was, hopefully, going to go in his favor, even if he did have to 'donate' and little blood in return. He hoped that this was going to be worth it. It had better be.

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><p>That shape shifter had been too strong. Sam didn't know how it had known they were setting a trap for it, but it did. It was lying in wait for them when they got to the location where they were going to set up the ambush.<p>

The son of a bitch had jumped them, knocked them both to the ground and proceeded to cut them with these large ass claws. It was about release Sam's intestines from his torso when Dean jumped in front of the swipe, taking the hit across his chest. The claws dug deep into his skin and Dean had lost a huge amount of blood by the time Sam dragged them both out of the sewer, two blocks to the Impala and driven them back to the motel across town. For some reason, the 'shifter had just ran after nailing Dean. Sam didn't have time to contemplate this gift of fate.

Sam was almost passing out, and, for some reason, Dean smelled absolutely scrumptious. He smelled like paradise. Or Heaven. Or maybe just like the best pie in the world. Sam couldn't really compare it to anything, it was just the best smell he had ever smelled in his life.

Dean's smell had always calmed Sam, even when they were kids, but this was ridiculous. Sam had wanted to jump his bones and the guy had been bleeding out in the car next to him. He couldn't actually tell if he was woozy from blood loss, or getting high off of Dean's scent.

That train of thought would have been bad enough if it was just the smell effecting Sam. But the fact that he was suddenly finding his brother, his BROTHER, attractive was worse. Sam was appalled and tried to push all of this from his mind as he raced through the night back to the motel.

Sam burst into the motel room, dragging a semi-conscious Dean behind him. Sam had some wounds, but Dean had taken the brunt of the shifter's attack.

Sam started stripping Dean in order to clean him up. It was then that Sam identified what the delicious smell was. Blood. Dean's blood. It was sluggishly flowing from the various wounds on Dean's torso. Sam was caught in a trance, eyes trained in the small rivulets of that life-giving fluid running down Dean's bare chest.

He felt himself getting hard. He had the sudden urge to lick every last drop from Dean's skin, taste him, take him in, become one with him. _Oh my God! What am I thinking? This is Dean_. _My Brother!_ Sam internally reprimanded before being brought back to the room as Dean groaned and tried to turn over on the bed.

"No Dean, you can't move yet, hon." _Hon!_ "I have to patch you up first." Sam got out the first aid kit and grabbed the whisky off the side table on his way back to the bed.

"Drink this, Dean, I have to stitch up the larger cuts." Sam handed him the whisky and pulled out the sutures.

"Doesn't work anymore," murmured Dean, pushing the bottle away, "just do it."

"What do you mean it doesn't work?" Sam paused, not yet poking the needle into Dean's flesh, his mind getting the best of common sense yet again.

"Doesn't fucking work, just do it!" Dean answered forcefully.

Sam knew from experience he wasn't going to get a damn thing out of his brother when Dean was hurting like this. "Fine, whatever," Sam retorted, angrily sticking the needle into flesh, resolved to get answers later.

Sam hated every minute of stitching up Dean. He winced every time Dean grunted from the pain. He had to kneel on the floor in front of Dean and lean into him to get the right angle to do the stitching and that meant every time Dean moved he brushed against Sam's increasingly large dick.

Dean tried bouncing his knee to stave off the pain; a glare from Sam had him hesitating to continue. The problem was, Sam had to finish this and Dean kept distracting him. It wasn't Dean's fault, of course, but Sam couldn't focus with the blood and the attraction to Dean and the, the blood.

"God, Dean, I can't work with you doing that!" murmured Sam, exasperated. Dean's leg bouncing was rubbing against his cock and not helping Sam's concentration at all.

Dean flinched, only slightly annoyed by the name of the most Holy. It didn't bother him as much as some of the lower levels and certainly didn't make his eyes appear. If that was a problem, he would have not have come back as soon after his return as he did. He shuddered when the thought of what Sam and Bobby might have done if they had found that out upon his return.

"What, Sammy? This?" Dean rubbed his leg against Sam cock, shifting his hips slightly so Sam was more in between his legs.

"Or this?" Dean said swiping a finger through the blood still weeping from one of the smaller cuts and brought it to Sam's lips. Sam drew back in shock, but was lost as the taste of Dean's blood exploded over his taste buds.

"Hmmmmm." Sam groaned, sucking the blood off of Dean's finger. Sam was so far gone, his pupils fully blown with lust, he didn't even stop the questions, "Why, Dean? Why do you taste so good?" Sam licked his lips, eyes trained in the blood still flowing from Dean's chest.

"You just can't get enough of me." Dean had that trademark smirk on his face, though it was sort of ruined by his glazed-over eyes. He might be going a little fast, but if this was the way he was going to get through to Sammy's dark side, so be it. He pushed the pain away, it was more of a minor annoyance anyway, considering his new power boost.

"I know you need more than just vanilla, Sammy. I have ever since I saw how unhappy you were with Jess, and then Madison. I mean, a werewolf chick, how hot was that? And then you went dark side with Ruby, and I knew that vanilla would never be enough for you, ever. You can't have a normal relationship, but since when have we been normal? You need this, Sam, and I can help you get what you need. I know you need this, so take it." Dean was basically trying to bring out the beast, the demon, within Sam, provoking it with the forbidden, the taboo. _I hope this brings out my lover. Please let this work. I think I need this as bad as he does, _Dean thought as he watched the emotions flit across Sam's beautiful face.

"I don't know, Dean, I can't –" Sam trailed off when Dean put a finger to his lips.

"Stop Sammy, you over thinking this again. Take what you need, take me."

At that Sam lunged up, violently plundering Dean's mouth. His tongue seemingly searching for something at the back of Dean's throat, Sam pushed Dean back to sprawl on the mattress and followed him down, arguments long forgotten.

Grinding his cock up into Sam's, Dean followed his lead, waiting for Sam to make the next move. He knew that if he took control, Sam would just write this off later as post-battle adrenaline and not enough self-control. If he let Sam lead, it wouldn't be as easy for Sam to blow this off and deny it later.

Sam moved down from Dean's mouth. He marked Dean's neck, leaving deep bruises and evoking harsh groans from his older brother. Laving the marks with his tongue, he moves steadily lower, sucking and lapping at the blood still flowing from some of the wounds on Dean's chest.

Somewhere between one cut and the next, Sam finds one of Dean's nipples. Blowing on it to make it bead, he takes it into his mouth, the warmth eliciting another groan from Dean. He brutally bites that too, smiling around it as he revels in the power he holds over his brother's reactions.

The deeper into lust Sam falls, the more his eyes start to blaze with his inner power, the red glow taking over his irises and bleeding into the white of his sclera.

Moving lower, he licks and nips at the edges of Dean's hips, unbuttoning his jeans. _Since when am I this crazy?_ Sam thinks to himself as he works the zipper down and yanks the jeans down around Dean's ankles.

"I think I'm gonna fuck you, big brother," he hisses softly, blowing the words into Dean's ear. Dean tenses in anticipation, loving the new Sam; his harshness, his gentle caresses in between bites, the flash of red when he raising his gaze to meet Dean's eyes.

"I think you should make that a definite fucking of me right now, Sammy," Dean replied, loving the violence in Sam's voice. Eyes starting to glow, he has to look away for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

Sam unbuttons his own jeans and shirt, torturing Dean with a slow striptease.

"Come on, Sammy, fuck my already," Dean says, almost begging.

Sam moves back to the bed, abruptly flipping Dean on his stomach and bringing up his knees. He grabs his belt, tying Dean's hand to the headboard.

"Sam , what – " Dean starts, but is cut off when suddenly, Sam is balls deep in his ass. Dean screams, back arching, loving every inch of Sam's monster cock in his ass. He can feel the head rubbing his prostate with every slight movement and breath Sam takes.

"I'm gonna fuck you unconscious, you little whore." Sam whispers into Deans ear, eyes glinting. He pulls out to the head and then thrusts all the way back in, earning another grunt from Dean, "You think I don't know Dean? You don't think I don't see you?" he starts a harsh, fast rhythm, pounding Dean's ass. "The flirting, the girls, every night a different bitch, a different cunt you're fucking. While I sit here waiting for you to come back, jealous of you because you can fuck them when I can't." Leaning over, Sam places bites all over Dean's neck and shoulder, leaving bruises again, marking him. Dean buries his face in a pillow, unable to hold himself up under the onslaught.

"I can't fuck them," Sam continues, "because even the most kinky I would scare. I would kill them on accident!" He slows, slapping his balls against Dean with every thrust, aiming for Dean's sweet spot. Obviously, Sam's demon is totally in control, but, for some reason, his wings are still retracted. Dean doesn't have he brain power right now to even notice.

Dean's groans again when Sam hits his prostate. His eyes glowing green, glad that Sam has him on his belly, because right now he couldn't hide them if he tried. It was hard enough to keep his wings from bursting from his shoulders. He's speechless from the force of Sam's fucking, bruises forming around his wrists from the belt. He can't move, can't speak but he doesn't want to. He has finally gotten Dark Sam out of hibernation and can't wait to see what else is in store.

Sam reaches around and grabs Dean's cock with punishing force, pumping it in time to his thrusts, drawing several ragged yelps from the man at his mercy. "Come with me, big brother" he whispers in Dean's ear, increasing his thrusts once more.

At that, Dean comes hard, screaming his release, the clench of his ass causing Sam to come shortly after. Breathing hard, Sam collapses on top of Dean, not yet wanting to pull out of that tight heat.

Some time later, he hesitantly pulls out with a groan and releases Dean's hands. Moving like one half dead, he heads for the shower.

_Fuck that was good,_ Dean thinks as he uses his mind to stop the blood still flowing from some of his cuts and removes his pants and shoes from around his ankles. He slides into bed, ready for round two when Sam gets out of the shower, sure his lover will want to go again seeing how he has been asleep for a long time. _He hasn't been able to play since Ruby left, I can see why he was so urgent this time_.

Sam walked out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, ready for bed. He saw Dean looking expectantly at him from his bed as Sam roots around in his bag for clean boxers. "What?" he asked, vaguely uncomfortable with Dean's stare. "Did I miss some shifter crud in my hair or something?" he said, reaching up to his hair with one hand, holding the towel with the other.

"Oh, nothing, Sammy, g'night." Dean said flipping over and pulling up the covers. _I guess Dark Sam isn't strong enough yet to push through all the time._ He thought more than a little annoyed that his ass was sore and he couldn't yet talk to, or hold, his lover again.

Lying in the dark, Dean mulled over everything that had happened since he had emerged from Hell. He had needed to prove to Sam and Bobby that he was not a demon, of course, with the usual holy water test and whatnot. But more than that, Sam had seemed more distant, closed off like he didn't want to let Dean back into his life. Bobby had lost track of Sam, and Dean was forced to activate the GPS on one of his fake phones in order to find him. When they did finally find him, Dean hadn't been pleased. It was Dean's first field test of Sam's dampening ability over his new powers.

When Dean had found Sam with some woman in his room that night, he finally got a taste of what jealousy feels like. He had to work really hard not to kill her on the spot. This was made easier by the fact that, the minute he saw Sam, the easier it got for him to calm the power inside of him just wanting to be released.

From then on, Dean realized he had to stay close to Sam, not let him out of his sight, or he might accidentally blow his cover early. Or worse, he would blow his cover on some hunt trying to protect the weak, human Sam.

He was really in a bind now. This catch-22 was now his life. _Awesome_, he thought, _just perfect_.

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><p><strong>As always I hope you enjoyed. A promised, this chapter was longer. <strong>

**I would also like to thank everyone who has already signed up to follow and favorite this story. And as most writers know, reviews are my bread and butter (and water, and chocolate and ice cream...) I can't live without them. So review please!**

**3 Kris**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it has taken me so long to post another chapter. That is what happens when you have to pack for university and handle some other things at home while your mom is gone on vacation. 3 **

**I hope you enjoy the new chapter! I have about three more chapters ready to go, but I'll spread them out over a few days. **

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><p><em>Of course he would run off, Dean! <em>His inner monologue yelled as Dean paced their latest seedy motel room. Another hunt, another hotel, but something had changed. Dean knew something had been released within Sam that night after the 'shifter attack. It had been a week since that had happened and Sam had been more reserved than his usual smarty-pants self.

Sam had been secluding himself as best he could, just doing the research, the job, but nothing more. His playful banter with Dean in the car and during meals at diners had fallen on the wayside. To Dean, it seemed like Sam was preoccupied with something and Sam's silence was more telling than anything he was saying, of late.

Now though, Dean was worried.

Sam had been gone for hours. Dean knew that Sammy would never be gone that

long just to get some burgers from the place across the street. _I should have never let him out of my sight_, Dean thought to himself.

That was the risk he took, allowing Sammy to continue hunting with him. He knew that the more Sam got involved in hunting for demons, the closer he got to danger. Not all of Hell's denizens knew who Dean was yet, but he was working on it. It took time to cast fear into the cold, black hearts of demons. He knew he had the power to do it, but he couldn't use his more revealing powers in front of Sam… not yet anyway.

Dean called Sam's cell, praying he would pick up.

"Hello, Dean," that wasn't Sammy on the other end.

"Alistair, you son of a bitch," Dean said, rage starting to break free of the leash he kept on it always.

"Dean, Sammy and I were just getting to know one another. I think he is going to enjoy our little 'talk'," the malicious voice said with demented glee.

"You touch one hair on his head, and I swear to God…."

"Oh Dean, that hurt but you know that only too well, don't you?"

Alistair was one of the demons Dean knew intimately from his time in Hell. He also didn't know just how powerful Dean had become since leaving Alistair's tutelage in the torture rooms.

"Where are you? I'll do what you want, just don't hurt Sam," Dean said, almost begging, knowing full well it would peak Alistair's interest and keep him from using his harsher torture methods on Sam before Dean could get there. He would want Dean to be able to watch.

Though Dean could teleport himself there immediately, it would be too hard to explain away to Sam, whose mind worked non-stop even when severely injured.

"Dean, Dean, Dean, I was waiting for you to ask nicely, good boy. You'll find us at the old Crowell Mansion on High Street," Alistair replied, his grin evident even over the phone.

Dean bolted out of the motel, leapt into the Impala and screeched tires in his haste to get across town to High Street.

* * *

><p>Dean didn't even bother scoping out the decrepit building. He just burst in, knowing Alistair wouldn't put off the torture long.<p>

Moving into what was once a living room, he found Sam pinned to a wall, Alistair leaning lazily against one wall twirling a razor sharp knife. Alistair's host body was a young man, slightly taller than Dean, brunette, blue eyed with well-defined muscles accented by the tight black tee and dark wash jeans.

Moving slightly inside the doorway, one more step towards Sam, "You all right, Sammy?" Dean asks.

"He will be soon, once he knows that you are dead and I am going to be with him forever." Alistair says, slowly standing up straight.

"I'll kill you, Alistair," growls Dean, taking up a fighting stance, his eyes starting to brighten with an intense inner light.

Dean leaps towards him, trying to disarm him but Alistair knows his style too well. The fight is bloody, each landing multiple hits, plaster dust filling the air as the pair slam each other into the walls. The house creaks and groans as it becomes an innocent bystander in the onslaught. Sam, still pinned to the wall, strains to hear what is happening, who is winning, any indication whatsoever. After a few minutes, Dean is hurled back into the living room by a well-landed kick.

Sam is devastated by Dean appearance. His face is covered in bruises, blood flowing freely from a gash on his head and from cuts all over his arms and chest, his chest heaving. A growl rises from Sam's chest, his fingers curling into claws in his anger at the sight of his injured mate. Wait. Mate? Where the hell had that come from?

"Dean, Dean, Dean, I'm going to kill you and then train your little brother like I trained you in Hell," Alistair says walking back into the room, "I'm going to miss our little 'talks' but I'm sure you trained your brother in that, just like you did everything else in his life."

Dean glanced at his brother on the wall. He could literally _see_ the cogs turning in Sammy's brain. He was curious to hear more about Dean's stint in the pit. His brother had purposefully refused to tell him anything about the four months he was gone. Maybe this time he would get some answers.

Glaring up from his position on the floor, Dean debates with himself. _Alistair is more powerful than when we were in Hell_, he thought_, but I know I'm stronger, there's no doubt about that. But how am I supposed to just reveal my _true_ self to Sam, it isn't time yet._

Moving past Dean towards Sam on the wall, Alistair addressed the pinned brother, "I'm growing tired of Dean, Sam, I think we will have lots of fun together, you and I," he started cutting Sam with the knife in his hand: just a small cut along his jugular, not enough to kill but deep enough to hurt like a mother.

"I'm done playing, Alistair," Dean said menacingly, standing up and looking deep into Sam's eyes, asking for forgiveness, knowing this might kill anything he could have with Sam in the future, or had already formed between them.

Dean burst into flames, not yellow or orange, but a deep emerald fire the color of his eyes. Eyes glowing bright green, black-feathered wings unfurling from his shoulder blades, Dean continued, "you of all people should know better than to fuck with ME!" He spun around to face Alistair and, unfortunately, his brother.

"I am the fucking Consort of the Boy King, second only to the Boy King himself in power! And it's a close second at that!" Dean advanced on Alistair, pointing a finger in his face, yelling, "Motherfucker, you may rule over several levels of Hell, but I rule over them all alongside my lover. Together we are more powerful than Lucifer himself! You picked the wrong demon to mesh with, and I'm through with this shit!" Dean makes a cutting motion with his hand, a look of pure fury washing over his features.

Looking horrified, Alistair falls to his knees, groveling, the knife forgotten at his feet, allowing Sam to slide to the ground. "Please, my lord, forgive me, I couldn't feel your greatness because your shields were too powerful for me," he groveled hoping Dean wouldn't kill him.

"I warned you, Alistair, if you harmed one hair on his head, I would kill you," Dean said, his voice sickeningly sweet, masking his inner ire.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't know, I swear!" Alistair begged.

"Too late," Dean said, waving his hand, burning the demon out of his host, blasting him into nothingness. Repairing the man's wounds with another wave, he teleported him home, leaving Dean alone with Sam in the mansion.

Dean reined in his flames, normalizing his appearance. It was getting easier and easier to control his powers. The more time he spent around Sam, the more control he gained.

He walked over to Sam, who was sitting on the floor against the wall looking a little crazed. "You okay, Sammy?" he asked.

"What the fuck, Dean? Is it even Dean that I'm talking to?" Sam looked ready to bolt or kick in his face, but Dean knew that Sam needed some questions answered first.

"Yes, it's me, Sammy."

"Dean? Since when are you demon?" Sam shakes his head, "No, don't answer that, I don't want to know."

"Sammy, I – "

Sam stood up quickly, knocking Dean back with both hands. "No, Dean, stay away from me, I don't know you any more."

"Sammy, it's me! I'm the same, I just have some extras, like a new car!" Dean explained, trying for humor, but his heart fell in his chest when he saw the disgusted look on Sam's face.

Sam scrambled for the knife Alistair had dropped, holding it between himself and Dean as he backed towards the exit. "Stay back, Dean, I don't want to hurt you but I will. Let me go."

"I can't do that, Sam," Dean said, iron entering his voice, "You can go if you want, but don't go far, you can't be without my protection anymore. If Alistair can find you, others can, and will."

"I can take care of myself, I don't want or need a demon to protect me," Sam spat, backing towards to door, the venom evident in his speech.

Guessing he was far enough from the demon that it couldn't easily grab him, Sam fled, running through the night, his mind already working on a plan.

* * *

><p>Sam found a working payphone outside a skuzzy bar downtown. Putting in quarters, he dialed the number he knew by heart.<p>

"Hello?"

"Bobby? It's Sam."

"Hey, idgit, it's about time one of you boys called me."

"That's not why I called. Bobby? I need your help."


	5. Chapter 5

The bar and its clientele was starting to look better and better, the more Sam drank. He didn't know what he was going to do. He had made a plan with Bobby, but he didn't know if he could follow it through. It's one thing to exorcise a demon; it's another to do it if that demon was your brother returned from Hell. Where the hell was Cas when he needed him?

Speaking of Cas, why didn't he know Dean was a demon? Was Dean so powerful that he could hide from an angel? Who the hell is the Boy King? These and many other questions were flitting around Sam's brain, driving him insane.

Thus, him sitting in this nasty bar, drowning his brain in the hardest alcohol he could find and afford.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks, knowing the haunted look in the young man's eyes well. It was a look almost everyone who came into this bar had before they started drinking.

"I'll have whatever you have that is strongest," Sam replies without looking.

"What brings you here?" the trucker next to him asks.

"I don't have anywhere better to go," says Sam sullenly.

"That's okay, I have a place we can go." The trucker says, eyeing him like meat in a butcher's display case.

Sam goes with the man, not caring what happens to him anymore. If he did, he wouldn't have gotten this drunk, alone and with no one to watch his back. The pain was too much, the betrayal to fresh. _Maybe this will help me forget_, Sam thinks before that last drink catches up with him and then he isn't thinking at all.

Standing in the shadows, where he has been since Sam walked into this dive, Dean struggles to not show himself and beat the prick daring to talk to HIS Sammy. He could never leave Sam alone anymore, not with danger so close on their heels. Whether or not Sam wanted to be with him, he was going to be with Sam. He followed Sam out of the bar with his new 'friend'.

Sam didn't know what was happening. One minute he is in the bar, talking to this trucker, the next he is in the cab of some semi, his pants and boxers down around his ankles.

"That's right, bitch, I'm gonna fuck the living daylights out of you, pretty boy!" the trucker snarls.

Sam's lip curls at the smell wafting from the man, stale beer and cigars. He knows he probably shouldn't be doing this but he doesn't care. Briefly that smell reminds him of another, more pleasing scent, that of gun oil, leather, whisky and blood. _No! I will not think of him again_, Sam tells himself, _he is dead to me now._

Screams erupt from deep in his throat when he gets impaled by what feels like the world's thickest cock. There was no pleasure, only pain. And just when Sam thought it couldn't get any worse, the stranger starts moving.

Of course Sam would be stupid enough, or drunk enough after 4 shots and a beer, to go with that trucker. The sounds emitting from the cab of the semi were not sounds of pleasure and Dean was finding it really difficult to think straight. _I can't be getting jealous of the stranger that is beating my brother right now. But I am, I know it, because that douche bag is getting what I want, my Sammy_.

Suddenly and screams stopped, the sounds of flesh pounding into flesh did not.

Dean ran over the yanked open the door of the semi.

"Who the fuck are you?" asked the stranger.

"You executioner, asshole" Dean replies sweetly.

After snapping the stranger's neck like a twig with just a thought, Dean turns to Sam, unconscious on the floor of the truck.

He lifts Sam, easily carrying him like he was a bag of feathers. Dean lays him out in the backseat of the Impala, drives them back to the motel and carries Sam up the stairs to their room.

After cleaning him up the best he can, Dean lays Sam on the bed and covers him in a blanket. Dean brushes Sam's bangs away from his beautiful face, finding himself staring at the curve of his cheeks and the hair that he kept long, first to annoy their father and now out of habit.

"Sammy, I know you hate me right now and I'm sorry. I'm trying to figure this out too. I didn't know how to explain all this to you and now I may be too late. I WILL fix this, that's what I do best. I will always protect you, even when you left me for Stanford, I watched over you and if that's what you want I'll do that again. I'll stay in the shadows, protecting you from the world the way I always do. Even if you don't want me with you I'll be there for you, even if the separation kills me, I'll try… for you, always for you, Sammy," Dean whispered, wanting Sam to hear him but too scared of being rejected again. He smirked at himself. Dean fucking Winchester, scared? Scared of being rejected by his little brother? It should be impossible, after his childhood and his training and his stay in Hell and becoming a demon, he should be able to face anything; but this? His brother, little Sammy, the only person in the world who could bring him to his knees.

_I don't know what to do, Sammy_, he thought as he left the motel room, softly closing and locking the door behind him. He lightly scratched a demon rune on the doorframe to notify him if Sam left the room when he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Waking up was Hell. Literally.

Sam felt like he possibly had the worst hangover ever in the history of alcohol. Even his face hurt from the force of his headache. Sitting up, the world spun and he raced to the bathroom to start praying to the porcelain god.

"I thought you would never wake up."

Sam stomach would have dropped to the floor if he weren't already forcing it out his mouth. It was that thing again. He tried to remember the night before, everything fuzzy and disconnected.

"I thought you didn't go for guys like that, Sammy. I guess I was wrong, you must have changed a lot more than I thought while I was in Hell." Sam could just hear the trademark Dean-smirk in the thing's voice as it came into the bathroom to try to hold Sam's head up.

"Get the fuck away from me, you bastard," Sam hissed as he scooted into the corner of the bathroom furthest from the door.

"Okay, but I'm gonna wait outside. Come out when you're ready to talk, Sammy." The thing with Dean's face cooed, like it was trying to calm a wild animal.

A couple minutes later, after brushing his teeth, Sam looked into the mirror and asked himself, "Why do I get messed up in these situations? Oh wait, I know, because I'm cursed with bad luck for all eternity. First Meg, then Jess and Madison, Ruby, and now Dean. Fuck my life," he shook his head at his reflection. Taking a deep, calming breath, he walked out of the bathroom. His breath caught when he saw the thing that called itself Dean.

The thing looked exactly like his brother, but seemed to have an aura of power surrounding it. His eyes glowed a toxic green and his skin radiated golden light like the world's best tan. He hadn't looked like this a few days ago, so Sam could only assume he had been dampening his true guise.

"I am Dean, Sammy. Not some thing that looks like him," it said, reading his mind.

"Get the fuck out of my head, if you want to talk, fine. After how you fucked over Alistair yesterday, I obviously can't stop you, so talk," Sam sat on the edge of the bed, looking around for something he could use to maim the thing and give him time to get to Bobby's.

"Sam, I have to – no, I want to explain what happened, but you have to just listen. No interruptions, or else I won't be able to get it all out. I NEED for you to understand," Dean begged with his eyes, knowing that his puppy eyes would work on Sam just like Sam's worked on him, no matter what Sam thought about his identity.

"Alright, I'm listening," Sam settled in, preparing to listen to a spout of bullshit lies.

"Okay, what I'm telling you is going to hard to understand, but it's completely necessary," Dean sat on the other bed across from Sam. "I guess I have to start back at the beginning, when I got dragged to Hell. It was terrible, Sam, the pain… it was, unimaginable. For the first couple hundred years, I couldn't feel anything but the pain, but I never forgot you, Sam. Alistair was one of my torturers. I became his favorite toy because I never lost sight of you. I held you in my mind always, no matter what he did to me, and this fascinated him."

"At a certain point, they start asking you to step off the rack on the condition that you start torturing others. I didn't want to at first, but…"

"After all those years, I finally broke down; I became a torturer to stop my own pain, knowing full well I would be harming others. But it was Hell; no one is ever fully without pain. At that point, I was self-inflicting pain by not forgiving myself. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn't stop, couldn't say no, because I knew otherwise it would be me on those racks. Every crack of the whip, every slice of the knives, I apologized. Not to myself, not to my victim, but to YOU, Sammy. I kept telling you I was sorry, hoping that somehow that would absolve me of everything, keep me sane."

Sam saw the emotions playing over Dean's face and wanted to gather him in his arms. Just hold him close and protect from the world, and kill anyone who tried to harm his mate. _What the fuck am I thinking? He is – was – my brother! _Sam thought and stayed where he was.

Dean continued, "I was so close to insanity for a long time. It happens to everyone down there. They all go insane eventually, in a way it is a blessing, not being in total control of one's mind. But not me, I stayed sane the entire time. One day, this demon, I think it was a lower level minion of some big head honcho…-anyway, this demon comes for me, and I don't know what to think. I get lead to this great hall, covered in gold and gems with huge columns and shit. Meg is there, kneeling on the floor in chains, covered in bruises and scratches.

"This guy is sitting on black throne and he says, 'Welcome to Hell, Dean. I have been waiting for one of the brothers Winchester to come visit me in Hell, I have plans to put into action, you know.'"

Dean knew he couldn't yet explain the whole consort thing, so he skimmed over the rest of what Lucifer had said to him, "Basically, Lucifer said that you and I were going to do great things and that I was going to help bring you to him, and help make you his perfect vessel.

"Well, Lucifer can go fuck himself. I won't ever serve up my little brother to the Devil. I would rather go back to Hell for an eternity of torture than see Lucifer take over you, Sammy," hardness entering Dean's voice. Sam recognized the steel in Dean's voice; he would battle the devil for all he was worth. That didn't change even if the demon was completely different from the old Dean.

"I will keep you from him, if that's the last thing I do. I won't let him get you, Sammy, I promise," Dean caught his brother's eyes and held them as he vowed his safety, his stare intense and piercing. Sam shifted uncomfortably under that scrutiny.

"I still am your brother, Sam, but I am so much more than that now. Lucifer granted me my power, more power than any other demon," Dean said finally, lowering his gaze.

"Is that why your eyes are still green when you change?" Sam asked cautiously, remembering Dean's wish for no interruptions.

"Yes, Sam. That is why my eyes are the same even when my second nature comes out, but I would never hurt you. Never you, Sammy. I couldn't hurt you before and I can't now. I will always protect you," Dean turned away, knowing too much emotion would show in his eyes, and also fearing his proximity to Sam would cause his eyes to change.

"Don't. Don't turn away, Dean," Sam said extending a hand toward him, hating the thought of Dean pulling away from him, yet not fully knowing why. Curious, he asked, "Would you show me? You eyes, I mean."

Dean looked surprised, but underneath Sam saw something that startled him. Fear? Could Dean really be afraid – of him? "Um, Sam, I don't know. I don't want you to run away again. That really didn't work out so well last time."

Okay, now Sam knew something was up. Dean never hesitated with Sam, never. He was always up front. _He really is scared of me. No, not of me, but how I see him, how I might reject him._

"If you are who you say you are, Dean, I not afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you, big brother, even now. I might be a little scared or surprised by what you can do, but not you."

Dean sighed in relief. His eyes brightened, lighting up from the inside like mini suns. Sam's eyebrows rose, disbelief etched in every line of his face. "Sammy? Are you okay?" Dean asked, worried when Sam was silent.

"Yeah Dean, I'm fine. It is just weird, seeing something supernatural happening to my brother."

"It's not happening, Sam, it already happened. This is what I am now. I can't change it anymore than you can't help over thinking everything," Dean teased, trying to lighten the dour mood taking over the motel room.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam."

"Did it hurt? Becoming one of them?"

_Now is as good a time as any, _Dean thought to himself, _I have to tell him now, while he is still processing all of this._ "Sam, not them, us."

"What?"

"Us, Sam. We are both demons. Well, your not fully changed yet, but still. Demons, plural," Dean prayed Sam didn't go ballistic.

"WHAT? No. I'm not… I couldn't be, I, I…" Sam sputtered. Dean could practically see his mind turning behind his eyes.

Sam knew now that Dean had gone crazy. _I can't be part-demon, could I?_ Sam didn't know what to think anymore. His world was upside down and sideways.

Dean continued, "You already know what Azazel did when you were a baby. And then there was Ruby, and the blood…." He trailed off, knowing Sam needed silence to think things over.

After a good twenty minutes in silence, Sam broke out of his thoughts, "So what your saying is that the blood started to change me into a demon."

"Yes. But it's not complete yet…"

"YET?" Sam yelled, jumping up off the bed, starting to pace from one end of the room to the other.

"Calm down, Sammy. It's not that bad. You can't stay in between human and demon forever. It'll kill you, it is already." Sam knew he was right deep down, he had noticed the deep bruise-like circles under his eyes and his growing fatigue even after a good night's sleep. But he didn't want to become a demon, the epitome of everything they had fought against, did he?

"I can't become a demon, that stands against everything I've ever known, Dean. Everything you've ever known. What about Dad? What about hunting?" Sam was starting to get really freaked out.

"I know you're a little freaked out -"

"A little freaked out? A little freaked out, Dean? That's the understatement of the year!"

"Okay, okay. But you sort of knew this was happening, you can feel it if you try. Your other half, the demon half, has been waiting for a reason to come out. Azazel had the right idea, but he went about it the wrong way."

"Right idea! Azazel was turning me into a monster, Dean!" Sam screamed, eyes bulging, and just stopped from hitting his brother in the face. His irises starting to bleed into a deep ruby color, glowing in his anger.

Dean got up and started pacing, words falling from his mouth almost too fast for Sam to follow, "Sam, Azazel was trying to stop Lucifer from gaining a human host here on Earth. He knew it would be catastrophic for everyone, demons included. The minute there is no human left to torture, the minute no one down there has anything to do is when all Hell breaks loose and all demons in power are overthrown. Lucifer isn't the most patient or the greatest planner. He is very impulsive and reckless.

"By turning you into a demon, Lucifer can no longer possess you. He cannot possess another demon, only a willing human host. Azazel just wasn't planning on being caught, and then he sent Ruby to finish the job, but you're a high level demon, or will be. The weak blood of a minor denizen like Ruby can't turn you fully. Lucifer gave me my power early in order to protect his future host from demon rebel followers of Azazel on Earth. What he doesn't know is that I would never let you get possessed, ever. I would give up everything to stop that.

"My blood is strong enough to turn you fully. You wouldn't just be any old demon, Sam" _I have to convince him to do this, it's the only way_, Dean thought.

"You would be the Boy King, the most powerful demon in Hell, even more powerful than Lucifer. He is just a Fallen Angel, you are the true ruler of Hell, the first _pureblood_ demon. You and I would rule Hell, and we could change things for the better, stop the torture. Together we could make Hell something new, something contained that doesn't bleed over into this world." Dean's face was filled with hope; hope that Sam wouldn't reject him again, hope that Sam would see this was the best option.

Sam's face had become harder and harder to read as Dean had been talking. "Stop talking Dean," Sam said, looking like he was going to either puke again or hit someone. He didn't know what to think anymore. His brain was shutting down because it didn't want to process this. He wanted to lock himself in the bathroom and curl in a ball for the rest of time.

"Lucifer wouldn't be able to touch you. We could save the whole world, just us and then we would be together forever – " Dean trailed off, not wanting to get into _that_ discussion with Sam yet.

"Stop Dean. I can't take any more right now. I need to think about this. Just leave me be." Sam said with a finality Dean knew was serious.

"Ok, Sammy, I'll stop. Just don't make me leave again." Dean pleaded with his eyes, working the puppy dog stare to its fullest.

Sam melted, knowing he would never get old of seeing the rare moments when Dean showed him pure emotion. He stood and moved to Dean, pulling him into a hug. "I won't make you leave. I just need some time to think, some space, ok?"

Dean nodded, eyes narrowing and flashing emerald behind Sam's back. _I won't let you leave me, Sam. Ever._ His inner voice said, steely. He would never let Sam out of his sight again, not after Alistair and the trucker. That would never happen again.

He circled the walls of the room, scraping protective demon runes into the wood paneling with a claw. Then Dean scratched another couple into the lintel of the door, just to be sure.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few weeks were routine: a werewolf in Tulsa, a few nasty gnomes in Buffalo and a poltergeist in Denver. Sam and Dean had a truce, they hunted and lived like they always did. The demon stuff wasn't mentioned and Dean didn't mind that. He tried not to use his powers in front of Sam, but they were quickly becoming second nature. He chuckled about the first time he used his power to get a beer from the fridge and float it to his seat by the TV. Sam had looked a little wide-eyed as the beer floated past his book-strewn worktable in the kitchen, but he hadn't said anything.

Dean had to admit, the telekinesis had come in handy with the poltergeist. The damn ghost had knocked them about at the graveyard, knocking their guns out of their hands. Dean used his power to bring the guns back to them and Sam hadn't questioned it. They smoked that ghost and got the hell out of dodge.

Now they were holed up in shitty motel in Bum-fuck Nowhere, Montana waiting for intel from Bobby on some demons holed up two towns over.

Sam was dozing on one of the beds, while Dean stood at the window sipping a beer.

"Dean?" came sleepily from under the covers.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I can't sleep."

Dean swore Sam sounded two again. The way he sounds so innocent when he is half asleep was so cute then, and more so now.

"I'm coming, Sammy." Dean moved to the bed, lifting the covers and slipping in with Sam, curling his arms around his little brother.

Sam mumbled, mostly asleep, and snuggled deeper into his brother. Dean had to keep from rubbing himself against the slumbering Sam like a cat.

Sam woke to a ticklish feeling under his nose. Opening his eyes, he saw that there was a wall of black feathers between him and the rest of the room. Sensing immense warmth coming from someone behind him, he looked back and saw Dean, fast asleep and looking more peaceful than he had since his return from Hell.

Now he knew where the feather wall was coming from. Sam had only seen Dean's wings that time when Alistair had threatened him. They were beautiful, sleek and soft, and now that he saw them up close, an iridescent black that shimmered in the light. They seemed to emit their own light in response, instead of absorbing light like black usually did.

_No wonder Dean is always going to bed after me and up before me in the morning_, Sam thought. _Dean's wings must come out when he sleeps, and he doesn't want to freak me out_. Sam smiled.

He reached out and touched one of the wings encasing his brother and him, protecting them from the world. He somehow instinctively knew that Dean's wings would be super sensitive, yet hard as steel when used for protection. He stroked the ridge of the closest wing, reveling in the feel of them. He didn't notice right away that Dean had woken and was staring at him.

Dean felt it the minute Sam woke and started stroking his wings. He had become attuned to Sam's habits and emotions a while ago. He could always feel him now, always find him, even when out of sight.

He was surprised when he felt it; actually, Dean hadn't planned on letting his wings out around Sam for a while yet. They must have emerged subconsciously in response to Sam being in his arms. His subconscious obviously wanted to protect Sam in every way possible even if his waking mind objected.

Sam continued stroking the wing, eliciting a strangled "Sam?" from Dean.

"Hmm?" was his response, continuing his movements even though it sounded like Dean was in pain.

"I don't know if you realize this yet, but my wings are really sensitive, like really, really." Dean struggled with himself, fighting his hardening cock.

"Yeah, I did." Sam responded, smirking.

"If you don't stop that, I'm gonna-"

"What, Dean? What is the big bad demon brother of mine gonna do to little ole' me?" Sam taunted him, still playing wings Dean's wings, not realizing what he was doing to Dean's wings was reflected in his cock. He knew Dean wouldn't hurt him.

Somehow in the weeks after Alistair's assault, Sam had subconsciously accepted that. He knew now that Dean was still his big brother; protective to the point of being annoying and showing him he loved him, not through words, but through all the little things Dean did for him daily.

"Oh, you're asking for it, squirt." Dean rolled on top of Sam, wrestling and tickling. They rolled off the bed to the floor, a tangle of bronze limbs and black feathers. He knew every spot on Sam that was ticklish, so he easily was winning. That is until Sam discovered that the spot on Dean's back between the bases of his wings was ticklish. He had Dean on his stomach in no time, pinned under his heavier frame, panting from exertion.

"Truce, TRUCE!" Dean managed to get out between sobbing laughs, wings weakly flapping in protest. He was afraid to roll over. There was no way Sam would mistake the hard-on he sported now, even through his jeans. He thought Sam would freak, and they hadn't talked about what happened and was said when Dean confronted Alistair. Dean didn't even know if Sam remembered that night after the fight with the 'shifter. It had been his darker half in control that night.

Sam let Dean up enough for him to turn over, pinning him again once he did, careful not to push him too far down and crush his wings. Apparently, Sam wasn't going to let this one go.

"Sam?" Dean sputtered, knowing Sam had to feel his cock against him.

"What were you talking about when you took out Alistair? Consorts? What was all that? And why don't you ever have your wings out when we're awake? I see you itching between your shoulder blades all the time." Sam asked, knowing Dean would try to avoid him, hence the pinning.

Dean tried valiantly to avoid the avid look in Sam's eyes, tilting his head towards the dingy carpet of their latest cheap hotel room, "Sam, I don't want you to freak on me again. We just got comfortable being around each other again. I would hate to lose that. I thought my wings would be a bit much, so I kept them hidden. Plus, I can't walk around with them out. They just get itchy, being all cooped up like that all the time. As for the rest –" Dean trailed off, studying the carpet intently, looking worried.

"Dean," Sam said sternly, "I'm not going to leave. I promised you. I just needed some time to accept it. I think your wings are incredible, so I want to see them as much as possible. I think you're going to have to put them away when I'm doing research though, I know I won't be able to concentrate." Dean got his trademark smirk back at that, but he continued mapping the swirls of the shag underneath them. Sam continued, "I want an explanation, Dean. I want to hear it from you now, rather than from some lying demon later." Dean flinched, knowing Sam didn't mean to imply that he was a lying demon, but still.

Sam noticed, "Oh sorry, I meant, I, I -,"

"It's okay, Sam. I know what you meant. Before I explain everything, I want you to know that I won't force anything on you, no matter what it means for the rest of the world. I promised I wouldn't hurt you, and I meant it. "

"Ok, but-" Dean stopped Sam with a finger to his lips.

"This is another one of those times where I need you to not talk." Dean pleaded with his eyes.

Sam nodded. Noticing the increased nervous tension in Dean's frame, he let him up slightly, but didn't want to completely remove himself from atop his brother. He felt more comfortable and safe when he was touching Dean in some way. _I'm not going to explore that now_, Sam thought.

"All the stuff I'm going to explain might be hard to hear but I need to get everything out in one go or I won't ever." Sam nodded.

"After I met with Lucifer, he didn't send me back right away. He gave me my powers and told me I had to learn at least some control over them before I left, or else I would give myself away too early.

"While I was practicing control, I was in a part of Hell where there is nothing. No light, no sound, no touch. It was like a sensory deprivation chamber, but things would jump out at me to try and startle me into using my powers. I wasn't having any luck controlling my powers, when Azazel decided to REALLY test me.

"He appeared in that place and wanted to talk…"

_Flashback_:

"Hey Dean-o," Azazel said appearing from out of the darkness, body wreathed in yellow fire.

"You bastard!" Dean snarled, lunging towards him, only to bounce of an invisible barrier.

"Now, now, is that anyway to treat your greatest teacher?" Azazel asked, watching as Dean continued to punch at the barrier.

"You destroyed my family, you asshole! I'll kill you for real this time!" Dean raged, trying to reach Azazel with his new powers.

"You can't hurt me in here, Dean. I have more power in Hell than I did on Earth, enough to protect myself from you now. I won't for long, once you have full control of your powers, of course. But that is as it should be, you having more power, I mean.

" I always knew you Winchesters would eventually rule, but I needed to help you along before Lucifer could interrupt that evolution. I had to make sure you two become the new rulers of Hell. Lucifer granted you powers, but he didn't ever want Sam to come into his own. I had to make sure Sam got what he deserved from the very beginning."

Dean looked at Azazel in disbelief. "You planned this?" he asked, not understanding.

"You always were the slower of the two, Dean. That's why I had to start the process in Sam, first. He would have been too suspicious if you started changing, he's too smart for that. I knew I had to turn him partially so he wouldn't be too much a demon, and therefore on Lucifer's radar." Dean didn't know whether to be annoyed at the slight to his intelligence or keep quiet and listen. In the end, he listened to his inner Sam and kept quiet.

"With Sam being part-demon, and you being fully turned to an Upper Level demon in Hell, Lucifer has no idea what he is in for." Azazel chuckled, a playful glint entering his yellow eyes.

Dean was having a little trouble following him, but caught clearly the part about Sam. "Sam is part-demon? That's because of what you and Ruby did, isn't it?" he slumped to the ground, heads in his hands. "How could I have been so blind?" Dean asked himself.

"You aren't blind, Dean-o. Sam is just really good at hiding his dark side. He doesn't let out his demon half often, but when he does…." Old yellow eyes trailed off, letting Dean think over what he had just dropped on the boys' shoulders.

After a few moments, he continued, "I have been watching you two for years, Dean. I know all that you have done to protect Sam. I've seen you fight for him and win every time, no matter the cost to yourself.

"I needed to come explain everything to you, in a place where Lucifer has no control. This place," he motioned to the cloying darkness with a wave of his hand, "is the only place in Hell that Lucifer doesn't have eyes and ears. He can't, the darkness wouldn't let him.

"This darkness is older than he is, it goes back to before the one above separated the light from the DARK. This is that dark.

"Lucifer is trying to escape Hell and get to earth. He wants to rule Hell and earth and fight the angels all over again. He thinks controlling earth this time will win him the coming war. He is misguided and a fool," Azazel spat, the ire in his eyes making Dean shiver a little.

"He doesn't realize that in taking over Earth he _loses_ resources. If every human dies in his coming war, demons lose most of their power; the Hell residents that will be born in the future would be gone, and only chaos will result. He doesn't plan ahead, only goes on instincts and desires; he has no head for strategy and planning.

"Lucifer was never meant to reign in Hell. Demons have existed far longer than any fallen angels," the disgust in Azazel's voice was almost palpable, "We were meant to have our own rulers, pureblood demons that would uphold the balance between Hell, the Gray Zone and the realm above and stop the demons from escaping Hell and upsetting the balance.

"This is where you and your brother come in, Dean. You and Sam are to be the first purebloods in millennia. No angel aftertaste, just pure demons made form the strongest humans and strongest pure demon blood. That's why I gave Sam my blood and why I convinced Lucifer to give you his. Even though he is one of the Fallen, his blood is still powerful. You are to be a hybrid, the Consort of the Boy King, a mixture of the strongest demon and strongest Fallen. You are to serve alongside the pureblood ruler of all demons in Hell. Your blood will be purified of the Fallen taint once you bond with him."

"Wait, Boy King? You mean Sam, don't you?" Dean asked, finally catching on, "And I don't think I want to know what you mean by consort." Dean didn't want to even think about that.

"Yes, Sam," he replied, "and yes, I do mean consort. Call it what you want," he started ticking off on his fingers, "consort, lover, co-ruler, spouse –"

"Okay, okay, enough!" Dean said, panicking. "Why can't we just be brothers? I mean, consorts?"

"Your powers aren't responding to your control, right? They just do whatever they please, with no regard to your feelings." Yellow eyes glinted, leering playfully.

Dean started pacing, trying to think all of these things out. He wasn't well known for his thinking powers. He had them, he just preferred to shoot first, ask questions later.

Azazel continued, "You won't be able to control those new powers on your own. You need Sam's powers and grounding influence as your consort to rein them in. His powers as the Boy King allow him control over all demons. Except you, of course, he only has partial control over you. He can only help dampen your abilities, but not dampen them completely. You are his perfect match. You are almost a pureblood, having given only your soul, not your body, completely over to darkness."

Dean knew he wasn't getting out of this one. He could feel his powers, could access them and control, but he knew he couldn't keep them from emerging: especially not when threatened or angry.

"I don't understand," Sam said, getting up off the floor and sitting on the edge of the nearest bed.

Dean could see Sam closing up and didn't want to lose him. "I'm not asking you to change right now, Sammy, or ever," Dean moved to kneeling at Sam's knees, begging him not to leave him.

Sam looked at him, a strange look in his eye. He looked like he was half disgusted, half accepting of what Dean had just told him.

Dean could feel the war raging in Sam's soul. He wanted his consort, wanted that closeness, but not if that meant losing the other part of Sam in the process.

"Why us, Dean?" Sam said, slowly looking more and more child-like.

Dean got up and sat next to Sam on the bed and put his arms around him, holding him close in comfort. "I don't know Sammy, I just don't know," Dean answered truthfully, knowing this was hard on his little brother.

He guided Sam down on the bed, spooning him from behind and wrapping his wings around them, trying to give Sam as much comfort and protection through his body as he could.

They fell asleep that way, worry lines creasing Dean's forehead, a single tear glistening on Sam's cheek.

In the morning, Dean woke to Sam moving against him. Sam was on top , licking his way down Dean throat, sucking hard enough to leave bruises.

Blearily Dean mumbled, "Wuh - Sammy? What are you doing?"

"hmmmm" Sam responded, continuing his assault on Dean's throat.

Punctuating each word with another lick, Sam continued, "I figured I should start the change now, right? Because it will only make me stronger when we hunt, and that can only be a good thing right?"

Dean groaned, eyes sliding closed, "I don't –" he trailed off, not remembering the conversation.

"Sammy?" He asked wearily, sincerely hoping this wasn't another trick, or hallucination and he was still in hell. "Are you really here, or am I still in hell?"

Sam looked up, meeting Dean's eyes, a serious look on his face, "I'm here Dean, and I'm real. This is real. You're not being tortured." _What did they do to him in Hell? Pre-Hell Dean was so strong inside. Now, he is barely holding it together._

Sam grabbed the demon knife off the table. It was never far from his side, Dean made sure of it, not after their run-in with Alistair.

Sam had been handling knives since he was little, so this knife-play was actually quite enjoyable. Granted, he had never sliced open a _human_ before; well, sort of human anyway… but after those months with Ruby, he was very skillful at making the blood flow in all the right ways. Slicing into someone in full control of his or her mind and body was different from slicing into possessed flesh or a monster that lurked in the dark.

The look on Sam's face was all he needed to get hard. That serious, gleeful look made Sam look like a kid again. So full of life, Dean wished he could keep that look on Sam's face all the time. _If this is how I can put that expression on your face, Sammy, I won't ever stop giving this to you_, Dean promised to his love silently. Sam was his love; he figured that out the minute he pulled Sam from that truck. But he didn't want to think about that now.

Dean groaned, the sharp sting of the knife drawing pleasure up from his core. He looked away; worried his glowing eyes might spook Sam. Fingers drew his gaze back to Sam, "Don't hide from me, Dean, not ever." Sam intoned, completely serious.

"Okay, I just don't want you to stop, just don't stop." Dean said, starting to pant.

Sam smirked, moving to straddle Dean and pin him to the mattress, "Well, I can't resist keeping you happy. I couldn't before, I won't now." He bent down to lick another bead flowing from the shallow cuts along Dean's throat, eliciting another groan from Dean as he moved to bare more of his throat to Sam's attentions.

The spicy, peppery flavor burst over Sam's taste buds, wringing a moan from him as he sucked at the heady nectar. He knew that he would have to start slow, like he had with Ruby's blood, or he would get sick. Neither of them needed that, so he pulled away from Dean's neck, unable to stop himself from licking that strong column of flesh one more time.

His brother's blood was so much more potent than Ruby's ever was. He now knew why he had needed to drink some much from Ruby to have even half of the feeling of power he got from Dean's.

Dean didn't push for more than this newfound closeness, and Sam didn't indicate that he wanted more than that, so it was fine with him. He was more than happy to have this indication that Sam was a little more than okay with the fact that they might have more than just a brother bond.

They fell asleep together, Sam on top of Dean, black wings circling them both in a layer of shadowy protection and warmth.

After that night, they exchanged blood several more times in the coming weeks. Sam seemed to get stronger after every exchange, but showed no signs of manifesting his powers. He seemed to just heal faster and be quicker on his feet. Dean was starting to wonder if Sam would need to fully turn in order to show any powers at all. At least now, they were sleeping in the same bed almost every night, which was a big relief and comfort to Dean.

The last exchange had been particularly big, and both Dean and Sam were tired already from that day's hunt. It had been a nest of vamps, and they both had killed at least twenty each. They fell asleep fast and stayed asleep long after the sun rose…


	8. Chapter 8

**I am sorry that it has taken me a while to get these chapters out. I have been busy back here at university. I hope you guys enjoy, even if this chapter is a bit shorter than the last few. I just felt like this was a good place to end. **

**As of now, I do not have anything written for more of this story (all the others I have had sitting on my desktop for about six months...). It will take me quite a while to write more, as I have a lot of work to do for my classes. **

* * *

><p>Dean woke up bound to a chair, wings pinned painfully to the back of the chair. Wearily, he looked up and saw a Devil's Trap painted on the ceiling and also one below his feet, ringed by a salt circle.<p>

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he looked past the doorway into the other room. _This is Bobby's house!_ He realized.

"Dean?" Sam called weakly from the other side of the room.

Dean tried to turn enough to see him, "I'm awake, Sammy."

Sam looked scared; he was in a similar predicament. Apparently, Bobby thought that when Sam didn't check in, he was possessed as well. He was only partially right.

"I'm so sorry Dean, this is all my fault."

"What? No it isn't." Dean responded.

"Yes it is. I made a plan with Bobby to take care of you, but I changed my mind and didn't meet up with him when we planned. I guess he came looking and found us asleep." _While we were asleep? That cannot happen again!_ Dean thought angrily.

"I told him you were a demon and that you had to be taken care of. He doesn't know your side of the story." Sam apologized, "When I woke up I told him he was making a mistake, I guess he didn't believe me."

"You guess? Good guess, brainiac." Dean was more than a little peeved. At this point, he couldn't fully control his powers without physical contact with Sam and the Devil's Trap wasn't helping.

"I can't get us out of this, Sammy. I don't have that much juice. – Well, I do, but I'm not fully in control of it yet."

"Not yet? Why?"

Dean smirked, "'Cause I'm not physically touching you, and I haven't had enough time to get my powers fully under control without that. I would be more likely to blow up the house than actually free us. I'm like a gun with no barrel, I just explode… no finesse."

_Physical contact?_ Sam thought, _I wonder what he actually means by that_.

"Look, lets just figure out a way out of here and we can talk about that other stuff later, okay?" Dean fidgeted, trying to loosen the bindings on his wings a little. "Man, this rope is worse than having them cooped up all day!"

"You're not going nowhere, Demon." Bobby said, turning the corner, loaded shotgun in hand and holy water flask in his shirt pocket.

"Bobby, wait, It's not what you think!" Sam started, squirming under his ropes.

"Wait your turn, boy, you're next." Bobby said to Sam, turning back to Dean. He laid the gun on the desk nearby and pulled out the flask.

Splashing the holy water on Dean's face, he said "You better have a good reason for coming back and terrorizing those of us who are left here." Anger and grief was apparent in Bobby's gaze.

Dean couldn't help it, the combination Devil's Trap and holy water brought out his eyes, even if they didn't hurt him. The emerald glow burned from his core when he looked back up at Bobby. "I am not here to torture you or Sam." Dean pleaded.

Bobby's face fell when he caught sight of the green lamps shining from the devil's eyes. "Yeah, then you should have stayed in Hell, you monster." He turned to find the exorcism ritual in the tome on the desk.

"An exorcism won't work, Bobby" Dean said, "I'm not a possessing spirit, I'm me!"

"Well, if exorcism won't work, I guess I'll have to use the knife, since we have yet to find the colt."

"No!" Sam yelled, silent no more, "Bobby, you can't do this! I will never forgive you if you do this! I need – We need him, to help stop Lucifer!"

"Is that what he told you? What happened the last time you trusted a demon, Sam? Ruby had you twisted around her finger just like this, until good was bad and dark was light!" Bobby argued, pulling out the demon knife and anointing it with holy water from his flask.

"This is different. This is Dean, Bobby! Dean. Not some slut demon from hell. Dean. My brother, your adopted son! Doesn't that count for anything?" Sam pleaded from his chair, writhing in his bonds, trying to stop Bobby from harming Dean. Bobby moved towards Dean, knife in hand, raising it over his head to strike.

Suddenly, the knife flung out of Bobby's hand and buried hilt-deep in the wall. A fierce wind started swirling around the room, shuffling papers and stirring the salt lines on the windowsills.

"I will not allow you to take Dean from me. I lost him once, and I won't lose him again!" Sam shouted, a flare of blinding light surrounding him.

When Dean and Bobby's vision had cleared, a swirling mass of crimson flames surrounded the chair and Devil's trap that used to contain a bound Sam.

Bobby slowly lowered the knife, backtracking towards the door, realizing that he couldn't fight ONE demon powerful enough to break a Devil's Trap, let alone two of them at once. His exits were cut off when walls of red flames reared up in his path.

Dean looked over at Sam in wonder. _If I had known all it would take to show his powers would be to put myself in REAL mortal danger, I would have. This is still awesome timing_. Dean smirked, his little brother was coming into his own, and it was a glorious thing to behold.

Sam stood in the center of what remained of the Devil's Trap, panting like he had just run a marathon, his black wings beautiful in his rage. He had a murderous look on his face, and Dean realized he had to talk his brother down before he did something he would regret, like killing Bobby.

Dean appraised his consort, from his burning red eyes to his black wings. He wanted to explore the contours of his mate's new wings, but first, to calm him down before he goes nuclear.

"Sam, good job, I don't think Bobby is going to try anything else, right Bobby?" Dean asked, looking at Bobby for a quick confirmation. Receiving a nod, he continued, "It's okay now, Sam. You can stop with the flames now."

"I can't, Dean, I don't know how." Sam said, a little fear inching into his voice while he looked over at Dean like a deer caught in headlights.

Dean wriggled in his bonds, "Bobby, come get me outta here so I can help Sam," he ordered.

Bobby rushed over and released him, scratching a mark through the paint of the Devil's Trap. Dean went to Sam, walking slowly across the living room to stand in front of his mate. He carefully reached for Sam's hand, entwining their fingers and wrapping them both in the warmth of his wings. Sam's were pulled tight to his back, poised for the violent action Sam was instinctually anticipating.

"Sam, at this point, in order to control your powers, you have to have physical contact with me until you gain more control. "

"What if I can't control, what if it controls me like it did before?"

"It won't. You didn't have me before, you do now," Dean said, pulling Sam into a hug. He whispered into his brother's ear, "Sam, you can't tell Bobby about the blood thing, he would flip. We are going to have a hard enough time getting him to be okay with what is going on with you and me. Let alone telling him I am turning you into a demon. He thinks you already are one."

Sam nodded into Dean's neck, knowing that his brother was right about this. If they were going to have any hope of convincing Bobby that this was going to be all right, they would have to introduce him to the idea slowly.

Sam turned his mind to the job at hand, trying to rein in his newfound powers, though he was surprised when his mental command actually worked, causing his wings to recede into his back and his eyes to turn back to normal.

Dean was impressed at Sam's willpower. It took him several tries before he could get his wings to retract the first time. _Sammy always was better than me at things of the mind_, Dean thought smugly. He decided to let his wings remain out, they needed Bobby to get used to them anyway, and his wanted to be out and stretch badly, after being tied to the back of a chair for however many hours.

They turned back to Bobby, who was still standing the in doorway, a look of shock plastered on his face. He did not appear to be contemplating murder anytime soon, so Sam and Bobby sat at the kitchen table while Dean leaned against the counter. They steeled themselves for the long and difficult talk ahead with their adopted father.


End file.
